Posts Tagged ‘bib overalls’

Is Exhausted A Principle?

October 23, 2014

I was practicing joy today, I mean I figured, I did happy yesterday, logical conclusion, try joy today.

Yeah.

You may have guessed it, tomorrow will be free, but who knows, I may change my mind when I ride my bicycle into work.

Today I felt joyful riding into work, the sun was bright, but not too hot, I was in my bib overalls, I got a grand and cheerful hello and good morning from a guy doing municipal work on a bus stop and it felt right.

Joy.

Joy to be alive and healthy and riding my bicycle to work.

I kept it that way most of the day, grateful for work, my health, my place in the world, it’s a small place, but fulfilling, joy to have the four-year old stroke my hand at dinner and then kiss it sweetly.

Are you wooing me little man?

We both wore bib overalls today.

There is construction happening at the house and we both had on our “working man” uniforms.

He got home from school saw me wearing my overalls and immediately dashed upstairs to get his.

Add one white plastic hard hat and he was a go.

We went in search of construction sites in the neighborhood–considering where my job is located, there were no dearth of sites to watch–plenty of condos going up on every corner.

The continuation of housing gentrification does amuse me.

I still rue not taking the studio that I was offered at Valencia and 21st seven years ago.

The rent was $850!

I could have been at Valencia and 21st!

But I am where I am and that’s ok.

The bike ride is good exercise, even when I am tired I am grateful for the exercise.

And I felt no little joy when talking to the mom this afternoon at lunch time while the littlest guy was down for his nap.

“Have you been accepted into a graduate program already,” she asked out of the blue.

“No, the application for the school I am interested in has not been opened yet.  I have been to the open house, but admissions for fall doesn’t open until November 15,” I replied.

We talked about the program.

We talked about my undergraduate degree.

She expressed some amazement at the fact that I worked close to full time hours when I was doing my undergrad.

Sometimes I too am amazed, I worked 30-35 hours a week, went to school full-time and also trained at the dojo I studied martial arts at four to five days a week.

Well.

There were some months when it was more like once or twice a week, but ultimately I was training a lot and found the practice super helpful, in hindsight, it held my drinking in check, even though I was running a brewing company and nightclub.

The packed schedule helped me keep up the illusion that I had some control over my life, even while it was spinning merrily out of my control.

I told the mom that I planned on working while pursuing my masters degree and that yes, I had looked into other programs, but none of them were quite the fit that CIIS is (California Institute of Integral Studies).  The fact that I could get a master’s degree in three years and work full-time is appealing.

Although I have heard from more than one person that I will want to only work part-time.

The mom made it clear that they would have room for me no matter what.

That is awesome to hear.

More joy.

In fact, a bit of a relief, to know that I can go and apply to this program and have a source of income for the time that I will be studying.

“We have the kind of household where we are always going to need help,” she said succinctly.

Yes.

I really like the family and I absolutely adore the boys.

They wear me down, they do, but they are also sweet, and snuggly and beautiful and smart and funny and damn good company.

Whether I am reading a story with the family dog and the littlest guy on the couch or having pirate battles on the high seas with the four-year old, I feel that I have been fully integrated into the mix.

Add to that job security while going after my masters degree and I am quite the content lady.

I do have to continue forward with work around my application.

The admissions for fall will open in three and a half weeks.

Not that I need to send it in the day it opens, but I would like to have it done sooner rather than later, I don’t see the point in putting off doing the work to apply.

Granted I am going to need a little time to write the personal essay and do to an academic paper for the writing sample the school requires.  I will also need a letter of recommendation from an academic source and my transcripts.

Perhaps that is what I can do this weekend–order my transcripts.

The essay of why I want to go back to school won’t be hard, hell, I have had some practice writing about that since I was at Burning Man this summer.

What did you do over summer vacation?

I had an epiphany at Burning Man and decided to go to graduate school in an area I have never thought to explore before–therapy.

And I wasn’t even on drugs when I had my come to Jesus moment!

I will most likely address my sobriety and recovery in a different manner than I do here, there’s a kind of, ahem, anonymity, that I practice here that I can let drop when I am writing my admissions essays.

They won’t be made public.

I keep certain things to myself in matters regarding the press, radio, tv, and film.

Not that I am on tv or film or radio.

But this blog is public and I prefer to keep certain things a little, well, private, although you could probably read between the lines if you spoke the language of the heart.

Anyway.

Enough with being oblique.

Back to being exhausted.

Which is not so bad now that I have had a moment to sit and rest and sip some tea and write some words.

Funny how I always feel invigorated after I write a blog.

This too is my joy.

Joy.

Bliss, gaiety, happiness, satisfaction.

All of the above.

Even when I am tired.

I have loads of joy in my life.

Being aware of it and present might be the best thing about it all.

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Life Is A Beach

November 28, 2013

And a vale of tears.

But I’ll get to that in a moment.

Day two of the six-day staycation.

I did not get out so much today.

Rather I stayed in the hood.

I relaxed in the bed a little longer.

Awakening at 8a.m. I thought, nah, I am allowed a few more minutes, and I just drifted off in the warm soft sheets and dozed for another twenty minutes.

It could have been two hours, it felt so good when I woke back up.

I got up without even consulting the clock.

I was shocked to see that I had only slept another twenty minutes, I really was prepared for it to be noon and not 8:21 a.m.

Up was up, however, and up I stayed.

A text from the housemate upstairs and a confirmation that she was around and was I around and that and we should go get into some Trouble.

Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club, that is.

Trouble Coffee

Trouble Coffee

I had some breakfast, made my bed, did some writing and when that was complete I opened the door to my studio and met her and her daughter in the entryway and off we went.

Trouble was delicious, I had an Americano and it was dreamy.

After some coffee and catching up with her we went over to The General Store where her daughter explored the back yard and the succulents in the green house.

Cacti

General Store

I had no intentions of buying anything and happily wandered around the back yard with her.

Then I had to, well, you have a bunch of coffee and you would too.

The bathroom was by the clothes rack.

And on the clothes rack there they were.

My bib overalls.

I have been looking for a pair of bib overalls for the last year and a half.

I actually found some at a Brocante in Paris, but the woman would not barter with me and was more than exceptionally French, Parisian, and rude (I actually only had one other interaction with a French person that was the cliché, in all the six months of being there really, two nasty “French” people.), she was also enjoying a cocktail brunch at the cafe with her girlfriends and had no intent on selling anything from her stall.

It was like a front to sit in the sun and get schnockered on a Sunday.

Which is cool, but I did not succeed in trying on or purchasing the vintage coveralls.

I did, however, today.

Man, oh man, they are cute.

I will be wearing them to all my holiday parties.

Why?

Because they make me happy.

Some clothes just do that.

They made me happy when I tried them on and I almost wore them out the store.

Holidays should be dressed in happy clothes.

And for me that is a pair of bibs.

Doesn’t matter that it is not traditional holiday garb, holidays are already a challenge for me, what ever I can do to make them less so is something I am going to embrace.

As I found myself crying over a pint of ice cream this afternoon.

No.

I did not eat a pint of ice cream.

But I did lose it over a text requesting that I pick some up.

I mean I lost my shit.

I went from being a fairly calm, rational, just went down to the beach and watched the surfers and listened to the waves boom on the shore, and hula hooped and eaten a kale and spinach salad and, what!

Napped.

Oh yeah, did that too, twenty-minute knock out in the full sun after my salad and banana.

Did any of that matter when my friend sent a text asking me to be a dear and grab some ice cream to accompany the pies he was bringing to the event?

No.

I, as I said, lost it.

I sat down.

I cried.

Then I got angry.

Fuck you God.

Fuck you.

I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, it’s Thanksgiving and I ain’t gonna eat get to eat any fucking pumpkin pie or whipped cream or strudel or gravy or cranberry sauce.

I hopped the self-pity train and rode it the fuck out-of-town.

I knew better than to respond to my friends message as the response was way out of proportion to the event.

So far out of proportion that I knew it had nothing to do with the request and was just the sign pointing the way to a deeper disturbance in the force, Luke.

The restraint of pen and tongue and text paid off.

I had to make some phone calls and follow through with meeting up some of the ladies this evening and I did both.

When that was finished, when I had a modicum of perspective I made the phone call and joked to my friend that it was sort of like asking me to bring a couple of grams of coke to the party.

I asked if there was anything else I could bring.

He was such a sweetheart I felt bad for even making a deal about it.

Asking for what I need is still so damn hard and it’s not the big stuff that gets me, I can handle the big stuff.

Births.

Deaths.

Accidents.

Evictions.

Getting fired from a job.

No problem.

Bring a pint of ice cream to an event and my entire world falls apart.

“Honey, it’s always the mouse in the room,” John Ater said to me, “it’s never the big things, the elephants are easy, it’s the mice.”

No kidding.

Holidays are challenging and feeling out of my league is standard for me.

What is not is saying yes to a new experience and going somewhere new to be with new people.

And an old friend.

A friend that I don’t get to see for long stretches of time and who will be away for a lot of time for the holidays, kind of gift, you know, to actually get to meet his friends and be invited to his high holy holiday.

He’s getting all my pie.

And the ice cream.

Knowing myself too, it’s the being vulnerable part, I want to be perfect and be capable and be on top of things, but sometimes I have a hard enough time just getting to the point where I know what it is that is troubling me.

Having open time to spend with people and develop intimacy is one of the things that I want the most, yet shy from when it’s presented.

I have been gifted with some perspective around this and when I can sit still and allow the feelings to come and go, I am better for it.

Much better.

Here’s to not sabotaging my abstinence or my holiday.

Here’s to showing up with my authentic self.

Shy, scared, a little anxious, but happy to be included and grateful to have a place to be this holiday.

Grateful to have friends who want me to spend time with them.

Thankful beyond words.

And happy I get to do it dressed in bib overalls.

Not the bottom of an empty ice cream container.

 

 


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